


Bright are the stars that shine

by OhAine



Series: Simple Chemistry [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour - I hope, Light Angst, One Shot, Sherlolly - Freeform, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7750948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhAine/pseuds/OhAine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d been a fool. All this time, she thought he’d been married to his work, and was happily celibate, only to now find that not only had he been actively searching for someone, but he’d found her too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright are the stars that shine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaybeItsJustMyType](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItsJustMyType/gifts).



> For Kiki, whose babies are in fact gorgeous.
> 
> Un beta'd, all mistakes are mine. Sadly, I can't lay claim to anything else. Mofftiss, ACD, the Divine Miss B and Cumberbatch's curls own it all.
> 
> Inspired by 'And I love her' by The Beatles.

 

 

**oOo**

 

_Bright are the stars that shine_

_Dark is the sky_

_I know this love of mine_

_Will never die_

_\- ‘And I Love Her’ Lennon & McCartney_

**oOo**

 

 

“Dear Lord,” Sherlock jabbed a finger at the glass panel that separated visitors from the nursery, “look at how ugly that one is.”

 

Molly followed the direction of his extended finger to a clear, Perspex box (cot?) in the second row of new-borns. Her eyes fell on a little girl – designated by the infant being swaddled in a pink blanket. She was crumpled and wrinkled, hairless and snub-nosed, and bore more than just a passing resemblance to E.T.

 

This was a mistake, she knew, bringing Sherlock here. Most likely he’d end up being punched by an offended parent, and she’d end up playing referee for the ensuing fisticuffs. They should have waited for little Amelia Watson back on the maternity ward like all the other visitors. But – of course – impatient Uncle Sherlock was having none of it. As it turned out, Milly was with the paediatrician anyway, so they were forced to wait at the observation window for her return. 

 

“ _Ssssshush,_ Sherlock,” she chided him while secretly stifling a giggle, “someone will hear you.”

 

The world’s only consulting detective cocked an eyebrow at his pathologist. With an impassive expressions he asked, “So?”

 

“You may not have noticed, but parents – especially new ones – tend to get upset when you call their darling baby ‘ugly’.”

 

“Well that’s their own fault,” he harrumphed, “they should take greater care when selecting a candidate with whom to mate, that the gene pool from which their progeny will be formed hasn’t been contaminated with DNA that through natural selection should have caused the extinction of its lineage generations ago.”

 

“Sherlock,” Molly sighed, “all babies are beautiful.”

 

“That’s demonstrably untrue! The pink blanket wrapped...thing in the second row is evidence of that.” Sherlock wrinkled his nose in disgust, and continued, “It looks as though it’s the result of an interspecies breeding experiment between a Shar-pai and a geriatric prize winning gurner.”

 

Though it was in extremely bad taste, Molly giggled. She was rewarded for her involuntary and conspiratorial reaction with a beaming smile from her handsome companion.

 

“I’m afraid,” she said a little breathless from laughter, “that choosing who we fall in love with, and who we want to have a family with, doesn’t work quite like that.”

 

“Yes it does,” he snorted.

 

“Eh, no Sherlock, it doesn’t.”

 

“Yes, it does,” he insisted. “It’s how I selected the future mother of my children.”

 

Shocked, Molly’s heart lurched in her chest. Whatever Sherlock’s ‘deal’ was, she’d never been able to guess. Half of London assumed he was gay, the other half assumed he was asexual, but she herself had never extrapolated beyond the fact that he really didn’t seem to care for her very much outside of their frustratingly platonic friendship. She’d resigned herself long ago to the fact that he would never be hers, and she’d made peace with that - really she had.

 

The bargain she’d made with herself was this: it was fine if she didn’t have him, as long as no one else did either. Yes, it was selfish, yes, it was ridiculous, but she honestly didn’t think her heart could take it if he fell in love with someone that wasn’t her. She refused to judge herself for finding a way to reconcile within her heart a way of living without the one person for whom that very heart beat.

 

Her throat swelled, and her eyes unexpectedly stung with the threat of tears. She’d been a fool. All this time, she thought he’d been married to his work, and was happily celibate, only to now find that not only had he been actively searching for someone, but he’d found her too.

 

“You want children?” she finally managed to say.

 

“Naturally,” he confirmed in an imperious tone. Gesturing to himself he said with no trace of irony or self-consciousness, “My mind is exceptional. It’s only logical that my offspring would be even more intellectually advanced than me, especially given that their mother is also remarkable. They would be our gift to the world. The Holmes line should continue, and Mycroft won’t be the one to do it. So…”

 

“So you will?” How bloody romantic.

 

He shrugged his shoulders and tipped his head in a _‘well, yes, of course’_ gesture.

 

Numb now, Molly asked, “A-And she was chosen by you purely on the basis of her intellect and looks?” 

 

Sherlock hesitated, “No. Not just that, no. But I can’t go around impregnating just anyone, now can I?”

 

Molly could almost hear the cogs turning in his head, he was thinking so hard.

 

“Most people never think this through, they’re passive in their own lives. But this is someone that I’ll be connected to for the rest of my days.  I couldn’t just give myself, my…issue, to the first cave dweller that rutted against me in a bar. She had to be someone very special. Unique. My equal in every way.” 

 

They stood in silence for a moment. Molly stared straight ahead at the nursery full of squalling babies, while Sherlock watched her from the corner of his eye.

 

“She’s more than just brilliant and beautiful though,” his voice softened, it became fond, almost awed. “She’s kind and gentle. Her heart is so big that I wonder sometimes how such a small body can contain it. Her smile lights up every room she’s in. She cares so much for me. I had no idea before I met her that I was even worth loving, never mind worth being loved by the single most extraordinary person that I have ever had the good fortune to meet. Her goodness inspires me every day to want to be a better man, just to make her happy. She is universally loved. That she has chosen to love me is an honour I will endeavour my whole life to deserve.”

 

Molly stood there, no visible reaction to his words, but inside her heart was broken. This wasn’t just Sherlock conducting an experiment in procreation. No. He was smitten. Head over heels. His words were those of a man very much in love.

 

"And you love her?" She had to know for sure.

 

"And I love her." His words were laden with heartfelt emotion, "I do. Beyond reason. Beyond hope."

 

Completely without her permission, her lip began to wobble and her hands began to shake.

 

“Molly?” he eventually said, his gaze firmly fixed on her trembling chin.

 

“Can we just leave it please? It’s fine.” Not that it was, but she really didn’t want to spend any more of her time talking about the super-model-slash-rocket-scientist-slash-Mother-Theresa-slash-future-baby-mama that was currently doing it for Sherlock Holmes. She loved him, so she would try to be happy for him. Eventually. But right now all she wanted to do was to be left alone to grieve for the loss of him.

 

A gentle hand cupped her face and turned it toward him. His expression was unsure, but she could see it was so full of love. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest.

 

“It’s not fine. I’ve upset you,” he said tenderly.

 

“You haven’t, I’ve upset myself. I’m just being silly.”

 

“I should have asked you first? Is that it? Is that how I’ve upset you? I just always assumed you’d want children someday.”

 

“I do- I-” Molly shook her head to clear it,  “Wait - What are you talking about?”

 

With a furrowed brow, he rubbed his fingertips over his bottom lip and mused, “Maybe I should have taken you to dinner and told you that I loved you before telling you that I wanted you to be the mother of my children?”

 

“You-you...” Molly blinked, gobsmacked. “You’re talking about me? You want me to have your babies?”

 

“Obviously.”

 

Molly’s mouth worked soundlessly.

 

“I’ve cocked this up, haven’t I? Mary said I would. _Damn_ _that woman_ ,” he grumbled, “she’s always right. I should have done this the way she told me to.”

 

Still not too sure of what was going on, Molly waited as Sherlock seemed to make up his mind.

 

"Right," he said, then flipped the collar of his coat and ruffled his hair. Pushing both hands into her hair, he cradled her head and kissed her.

 

And kissed her.

 

And kissed her.

 

And kissed her again. Kissing her the way every woman deserves to be kissed at least once in their lives.

 

When their lips parted, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. With their noses touching and their breaths mingling he asked, “Molly Hooper, would you like to have dinner with me?”

 

“Just dinner?”

 

“And babies. But we’ll start with a hot meal.”

 

He smiled at her, and for the first time she saw it. A light was sparkling in his eyes that was made purely from the joy he felt from just loving her. Why on Earth had she never seen it before? It made her weak at the knees and made her feel like she was floating on air.

 

There was no going back now. Now that she’d had that feeling of being wanted by him, had known what the texture of his lips on hers was, had heard the soft sigh that he expelled when she gave herself to his kiss. How could any girl resist that?

 

“Yes, Sherlock,” she smiled, “I’d like that very much.”


End file.
